The first light of pre-dawn glowed through the opening of the cave, filling in the triangular space. She slipped quietly out of bed, quickly threw on a wrap and some foot coverings, and moved silently towards the entrance.
She took a deep breath as soon as she stepped beyond the cave’s mouth. Her relief was so great, she didn’t care that icy rain soaked through her leather wrap. She slogged through the mucky quagmire in front of the cave towards the stream,, shivering from a sudden chill. Patches of snow, blackened by soot sifting out from the many fires, sent muddy runnels of water down the slope adding their small measure, to the drenching downpour that swelled the ice locked channel.
Her leather foot coverings gave small purchase on the reddish brown ooze, and she slipped and fell half way down to the stream. Her limp hair, plastered against her head, hung in thick ropes extending into rivulets that cut through the mud clinging to her wrap before the rain washed it away. She stood for a long time on the bank of the watercourse, struggling to break free of its frozen keep, and watched the dark water swirl around chunks of ice, finally break them loose, and send them careering to some unseen destination.
Her teeth were chattering when she struggled back up the slippery slope watching the overcast sky grow imperceptibly lighter beyond the ridge to the east. She had to force herself through an invisible barrier that blocked the mouth of the cave, and felt the sense of uneasiness again the moment she entered.
From the book ‘The clan of the cave bear’ by Jean M. Auel

Brun threw up his hand in a signal to stop, then pointed ahead at the monstrous shaggy bruin rubbing his back against a tree. Even the children sensed the awe with which the clan viewed the massive vegetarian. His physical presence was impressive though. The brown bears of their own mountains, and these too, averaged about three hundred and fifty pounds; the weight of a male cave bear, during the summer while he was still fairly lean, was closer to a thousand. In Late autumn, when he was fattened for winter, his bulk was much greater. He towered above the men of the clan by nearly three times their height, and with his huge head and shaggy coat seemed even bigger. Lazily scratching his back on the rough bark of the old snag, he appeared unaware of the people frozen on their tracks so close by. But he had little to fear from any creature and was simply ignoring them. The smaller brown bears inhabiting the area near their own cave had been known to break the neck of a stag with one blow of a powerful foreleg, what couldn’t this huge bruin do? Only another male during rutting season, or the female of the species protecting her cubs, would dare to stand up to him. She was invariably successful.
The bear tired of his activity – or his itch was satisfied – and he stretched to his full height, walked on hind legs a few paces, then dropped down on all four legs. Muzzle drooping close to the ground, he loped ponderously away with a lumbering gallop. For all his great size, the cave bear was basically a peaceful creature and rarely attacked unless he was annoyed.
From the book ‘The clan of the cave bear’ by Jean M. Auel

For two days they struggled through putrid, mosquito infected swamps of brackish water, broken through by occasional channels, before they reached the mainland. Scrub oak and hornbeam quickly led to the cool, welcome shade of parkland oak woods. They passed through an almost pure stand of beech, relieved by a few chestnut, and into a mixed forest dominated by oak, but including boxwood and yew, draped with clinging ivy and clematis. The lianas thinned out, but still climbed an occasional tree when they reached a belt of fir and spruce intermixed with beech, maple and hornbeam. The western part was the wettest of the entire range, and carried a dense cover of forests, and the lowest snowline.
They caught glimpses of forest bison and the red deer, roe deer and elk of wooden landscapes; they saw boar, fox, badger, wolf, lynx, leopard, wildcat and many smaller animals, but not a single squirrel

The travellers settled into a monotonous routine, one day blending into the next with weary regularity. The advancing season changed so gradually, they hardly noticed when the warm sun become a scorching ball of flame searing the steppes, turning the flat plain into a jaundiced monochrome of dun earth, buff grass and beige rocks against a dust laden yellowish drab sky. For three days their eyes smarted with smoke and ashes carried by the prevailing winds from a sweeping prairie fire. They passed massive herds of bison, and giant deer with huge palmate antlers, horses, onagers and asses; more rarely, saiga antelope with horns growing straight out of the tops of their heads slightly curved back at the tips; tens upon tens of thousands of grazing animals supported by the extensive grassland.
Long before they neared the marshy isthmus, that both connected the peninsula to the main continent and served as an outlet for the shallow salty sea to the northeast, the massive mountain range, second highest on earth, loomed into view. Even the lowest peaks were capped with glacial ice to halfway down their flanks, coldly unmoved by the searing heat of the plains. When the level prairie merged into low rolling hills, dotted with fescue and father grass, and red with a richness of iron ore – the red ochre making it hallowed ground – Brun knew the salt marsh was not far beyond. It was a secondary and more tenuous link . The primary connection of the peninsula to the mainland was the northern one that formed past of the western boundary of the smaller inland sea.